Saints of the Syndicate by Natalie Nicole

Chapter 2

Giovanni

 

I sat there as Sinclair and Declan stormed out of the council room, staring at our fathers for a second before I spoke.

"You cannot possibly be serious about this."

"We are," they all replied in unison.

I spent a second gathering my thoughts before I spoke again.

"And what exactly were our grandfather's thoughts on your rather bold order? Seeing as how they are all still living, they hold the true power here in the Trident, regardless if they are actively involved or not."

My fathers’ jaw clicked, Sinclair's dad's hands clenched into fists as his knuckles turned white, and Declan's father gripped his tumbler of whiskey so hard it was ready to break.

They knew I had them.

They all hated their fathers, our grandfathers. While they were still criminals the same as us, our grandparents were the old school criminals with actual hearts of gold, unlike the men before me.

Don't get me wrong, I saw my grandpa Gianluca break a man's hand with a baseball bat for whatever crime he committed at the age of six. Even back then it was like it was just another day because in our world it was. That also meant that they upheld the rules and rights of being a Trident member.

By The Trident Syndicate's laws, if there was an older and basically "retired" member of the three families still living, they held authority over all active members. Their word was the law, and you didn't argue it. By looking at the reactions to my statement, our fathers must have forgotten about that little bylaw. Not surprising in the least.

"Right...Well seeing as how they do not have any knowledge about your decree here, should I make a call and see what they have to say about it?" I boldly asked while keeping a poker face.

I know this is going to royally bite me in the ass later, but I will not see any of us into a forced marriage that only benefits these fools.

Lorenzo stays quiet, probably planning his revenge against me already. Too bad I can out hack anything he tries. Robert still hasn't moved and is staring daggers at me. He’s death gripping his drink while wishing it was one, or all of, our necks. Finally, Sinclair's dad stands and buttons his $7,500 custom Armani suit jacket before speaking.

"Now let's not get carried away there, Giovanni. We don't need to bring them into this. I'm sure we can come to some type of...understanding of sorts."

"The understanding is simple. We refuse. While everyone else may be your puppets waiting to be told to dance, we are not. You should have realized that by now. If not, then I'm sorry to say...You're all fucking morons."

And that broke their calm demeanor.

Robert sneers at me. "Disrespectful little shit!"

"Giovanni Lorenzo Martinelli! What in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you? I did not raise you to be such an insolent, rude child!"

"You do realize the punishment for disrespecting one of the elders, correct?" Arthur calmly says through the midst of the others’ rages.

I sit back in the chair and cross my arms over my chest, letting them know that they don't scare me. They haven't for years. Just because I'm the quietest of us three, doesn't mean I'm going to instantly cower to them.

"Lorenzo, you didn't raise me. The hired help raised me while you were fuck knows where stepping out on mom while she drank herself to death. And yes, Arthur, I do know the punishments. Unlike you, I have our code of conduct memorized. This means you are all directly violating one of the biggest codes. By not conferring with the true authoritarian's of the Trident on such a big decision, especially our fucking futures, you could all have your memberships to the syndicate stripped and all of your positions outside these walls gone too. Just one call and everything could be gone for all of you," I finish while standing.

They are shell shocked by my declaration.

Good.

"Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have better places to be than here."

And out I walk to go find the others and fill them in on the potential that is World War 3.

-----

"What fucking bastards! They seriously thought they could get away with that shit without talking to our grandfathers?" Declan damn near fucking screams at the club.

Thank fucking god we have a private suite for occasions like this otherwise shit would hit the fan.

Club Luxe is one of our business ventures outside of our fathers’ knowledge. It's our private playground where we go to get away from all these shit storms that are our lives.

"Shut the fuck up about it already, Deck. Jesus Christ. We'll handle it like we always do," Sin demands, trying to contain his rage at the same time.

"What we need to do is-" Declan rages on, ignorant to our speaking.

"Declan!" we both yell, which startles him, but at least he shuts up and focuses on us.

"Enough already. Also, someone is gonna have to cover my tab tonight until we get back home." Grumbling as I take a swig of the drink in my hand.

"Why?" Sinclair asks with a quirked eyebrow

"I May or may not have said a few choice things after you both stormed out like pissed-off gorillas. So I have a feeling all my shit is locked out again," I reply with a smirk on my lips before downing my shot.

Declan finally sits down with one leg over the chair. He takes 2 shots back to back before a shit-eating grin splays across his face.

"You pissed off the devils reincarnated? How the fuck did you accomplish that there Gio boy?"

With a roll of my eyes and a middle finger to his face, I relay the conversation to them. Through the retelling, their faces go through a few emotions. Rage is a constant though.

"Stupid fucks," Sinclair mutters. "Thank fuck you have that shit memorized. I sure as shit don't."

"Me either. Nor do I care to either. But that's why we have you genius boy," Deck says with a tip of his glass in my direction.

Declan laying on compliments means he is on his way to getting right royally trashed tonight. Although I don't blame him. Tonight was one of the shittiest meetings in the history of us all being Trident members, and that's including our initiation and hazing weeks. Those left us all with the same scars along our left palms, brands on our right thighs, and all 3 of us getting our dicks pierced by losing a bet to Declan during a drunken hazing.

That shit hurt like hell, but it has paid off quite well since then with our countless female endeavors. We’ve even earned ourselves the god awful nickname “The Three Orgasm-teers”. It’s utterly ridiculous, but it somehow brings women out of the woodwork to try and take a ride on one or all of our ‘sinful swords’.

"Taking it we are gonna be dragging his ass out of here in an hour, what's your bet?" I say to Sinclair while still looking at Declan. He hates when we bet on his drinking habits.

"$100. 45 minutes. Tops."

"Deal."

"Cock suckers," Deck mutters while grabbing one of our bottles before standing up to gaze out at the club below.

He doesn't even bother arguing anymore about us betting against him.

"You fuckers are both gonna owe me in the morning. Holy fucking Tuesday."

"Care to elaborate on how we are both gonna lose there, bud?" Sinclair asks him.

"Yeah...My future ex-wife is down there on the dance floor walking towards the bar to sit down. That's why."

Sin and I glance at each other before getting up ourselves to look down into the club along with him. It doesn't take us long to see who has stolen Declan's attention.

"Holy shit," I mutter while feeling my cock spring to life in my suit pants.

Sin whistles. "Fucking hell."

"Yeah," is all Declan can say in reply.

And after that...we are all speechless.

She is absolute pure perfection.